


The Legend of Zelda: Call to the Throne

by SargeRay



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Family Bonding, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargeRay/pseuds/SargeRay
Summary: A father and daughter must traverse the land of Hyrule, seeking to rebuild a damaged world and a fraying relationship
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

It was yet another day in paradise for Aria as she groggily opened her eyes to greet the morning sun. Another morning of cold, crisp spring air and having to endure it as she did her chores throughout the day.

Rubbing sleep dust out of her eyes, Aria sat up and slung her legs over the bedside. Already, she could feel the ache that her muscles would undergo before the day was over, but she knew better than to complain.

The sooner you started your day, in her book, the sooner you could end it. With that daily reminder, she set about dressing herself.

Aria considered herself about as average as a sixteen-year-old Hylian girl could be. Her short-cut, dirty-blonde hair reached the base of her neck and she was lean, but not lacking muscle thanks to the hard work she had to devote to in day-to-day life of farming and the occasional hunting trip. Under her left eye was a scar-a thin, pale line across her skin that came courtesy of a stray branch and that she faulted on the reckless abandon of her childhood.

As she pulled on a green tunic, she heard the telltale sound of upturning earth and the efforted grunts that accompanied it. Typical of her father to be up and around like he always was. She often suspected that he never slept-always doing something to keep himself busy, especially so in the last few years.

After pulling on her hosen and boots, she pushed open the door and, sure enough, her father was out in the field, tilling soil in a small garden. Come autumntime, it would be full of big, orange pumpkins.

Her father propped an arm on his shovel as he turned to look at her. He was of average height for a Hylian man, though he still stood a full head taller than her. He was well-muscled from both his chores and regular hunts in the woods that their house stood on the borders of, but his years were certainly catching up to him, as indicated by his beard stubble and the faint, white streaks in his dirty-blonde hair.

"I thought you would never wake." He said to her, his disappointment apparent in his voice.

"I overslept. Sorry."

"We'll be leaving for town next sunrise." he told her, then gestured to a fenced-in pen, "Pick two or three healthy ones, then we go hunting for one last haul."

Aria nodded, then turned to the pen. In it was a small herd of goats of varying ages and sexes. For the next few minutes, she had to find the biggest and strongest of the bunch that they could afford to let go of. If a goat was skinny, still young, too old, sickly or expecting, she would leave it be and hope new additions would be coming soon.

She chose three, as per her father's instruction-a male with a solid set of horns, a female who had recently given birth, and the most-recently matured youngster with lots of energy. After putting them in a separate pen, she returned to her house

The hunt was set to begin the moment she reported to her father. She had to get her supplies before he got on her back about it.

Right by the door, right where she had left it, sat a bow and a quiver of arrows. She took her bow, bent it back good and tight with help from her trained arm muscles, then hooked the tips together with a taut chord.

With her bow ready, she did a quick count of the arrows-only ten. She would have to not waste her shots, and make more in the near future.

Slinging the quiver over her shoulder, she was out the door and making her way towards her father, who was eyeing the pumpkin patch for sickly or dying pumpkin plants. Any he found were quickly tossed to a heap of compost.

On seeing her approach, he propped his rake onto the short fence surrounding the patch, then said, "This will be your hunt, Aria. Where will we go?"

Aria turned to the woodland surrounding their humble home-a two-room cabin that was the epitome of humble life. She chose a mildly-cleared pathway into the woods, then pointed the way. Her path selected, she took off on a mild run, her father's heavy footsteps following close behind.

Aria was familiar with these woods. She had explored and hunted within them since she was twelve, going on hunting trips with her father similar to this one. At fourteen, she was leading the hunt rather than following her father's back.

A few minutes in and Aria's eyes fell on a set of tracks in a patch of soil. She paused and knelt to inspect them. They were fresh. Whatever made them could not be too far away.

"What do you see?" her father asked.

"I think it's a wild boar." Aria replied, then gently laced the sides of the cloven-hoof indentations with her finger, "Could also be a doe, though."

"Find it, then."

Obediently, Aria returned to her full height and they took off in the tracks' general direction. Minutes passed and, wanting to break the awkward silence, Aria made yet another attempt to engage her father in conversation.

"So," she called back to him, "Did you and mother go on hunts like this?"

Aria never knew her mother. From what she had been told, though, she had died when Aria was only a year old. He had never gone into detail on how it happened, and she had never tried to force the information from him. Still, the questions lingered in her mind. Everyone had to come from somewhere, after all.

"No." he answered, all while not breaking his stride, "Your mother was not a hunter. She trained in a bow, but only to defend herself and me."

This was new for Aria. Not much and incredibly vague, but new all the same. Normally, when she tried to bring up her mother, her father either never answered or changed the subject. It was rare of him to give her a straight answer. Before she could follow up, she saw something in a small clearing ahead and hid behind the first brush she could find.

It was a rabbit. Far from the game they were hoping for, but a target that could not be ignored all the same. Aria reached for an arrow in her quiver, but her father put a hand on her shoulder, halting her for a moment.

"You get three arrows." he told her, "Make them count."

Aria nodded her understanding, then pulled the first arrow from her quiver, unhindered. Nocking the arrow to her bowstring, she strained as she slowly pulled it back far enough for its feathers to tickle a spot under her ear.

The rabbit still had not spotted her. So far, anyway.

She took a deep breath, steadying her aim and keeping her target right in her sight.

The rabbit suddenly perked, turning its head and rotating its long ears as though it had sensed danger.

For Aria, it was now or never. If she paused for a second longer, the rabbit would disappear. She fired just as the animal sprang for cover, but in the last fraction of a second, veered her bow to the right. The arrow flew with a faint whistle, striking the rabbit right through its midsection. The animal hit the ground, where it remained perfectly still.

Aria let out a breath, then went to retrieve her catch. Picking the rabbit up by its ears, she removed the bloodstained arrow and placed the lifeless hare into a hunting satchel on her belt. As she turned to return to the trail, she saw her father, his expression hard to read.

"It sensed you and tried to run." He told her, "You were lucky that shot hit at all. Avoid being seen next time."

Aria nodded. He wasn't harsh with his words in the slightest. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was one of the things she admired most in her father-the ability to find improvement even in success.

The hunt continued for several minutes, mostly in awkward silence and intense focus. Aria happened upon the tracks again. Fresh. The animal had to be close now.

She was about ready to relay that very information to her father, but just as she was about to round a tree, she froze and ducked back behind its trunk. Her father stopped just short of crashing into her. They both had seen the same thing; a doe that was foraging through low-hanging branches.

Aria reached behind her back and drew an arrow, then felt her father's hand fall, heavily, on her shoulder. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, trying to keep focus on the unsuspecting deer, and from her peripheral vision, she saw him lift one finger.

One shot. That was all she was going to get for this target.

She strung the arrow and pulled it back. Deer had excellent hearing and could move as swift as lightning. If she missed or if she grazed it, the deer would be long gone in the blink of an eye. If she merely wounded it, it could still go far before it fell.

Aria knew that she was going to have to kill it or immobilize it on the spot. She weighed her options. A shot to the head would kill it instantly, but the target itself was small and hard to hit. Hitting its haunches or the collar would slow it down, but risked it running away. Even if it fell after a few good bounds, who knew what else was out in the woods?

She knew where she had to put the arrow then. It was going to be a risky shot, but considering her situation and remaining options, there was little other choice. If she missed here, both her and her father would have a very underwhelming rabbit stew, or go into town with unappealing goods to sell.

The arrow was now nocked, snugly, in its bowstring, which was as far back as she could safely pull it. The deer still had not sensed her.

Aria let loose the breath she held, and the arrow flew from her fingertips. It whistled through the air and struck the deer right in the chest-between its shoulder blade and arm-with a faint, but audible impact. The deer cried out in pain, then keeled over on its side.

Only when it made no effort to get back up did Aria and her father emerge from their hiding place and approach. The deer was still alive, but judging from the labored breathing and the wound that oozed blood, it wasn't going anywhere. She looked to her father, who lightly gestured with his head.

This was it. Her hunt. She had to finish it.

Aria took a knife from her belt, kneeling down to place the tip right at the doe's jugular, her face mirroring her father's. She could feel its breath quickening beneath its chestnut fur. A small press was enough to sink the tip past its skin and create a small spurt of deep-red blood. The deer involuntarily jerked as the blade sank deeper, but it was too weak to even try to fight back. After just a few seconds, its breathing slowed to a halt and it lay perfectly still.

Only when she was certain that the deer was dead did Aria's emotions finally come to surface. Her breath returned, shaky and rugged, and she could only look at the dead animal with something resembling pity.

She would never forget her first deer. At just twelve years old, her father had taken her on a hunting trip with him. When he brought down his own deer with a well-placed arrow, he had handed her a knife and instructed her to finish it just as he did now. She remembered the uncontrollable shaking as the tip of the blade hovered over the stag's neck, and the tears that stung her eyes when she could not bring herself to do it.

Her father had reached out then and took, not the knife, but her hands in his own. Aria remembered how his calluses felt down to the touch. He looked into her eyes with a piercing, yet soft look that inaudibly said "I know. I'm sorry." He had guided her hand and the knife down, and straight into their intended target.

The event played out just as it did years ago. Even after four years of hunting, it hurt her to kill an animal, even one that was in pain as this one was.

Thanks to her father taking her on regular hunts, she had learned to shut their death out of her heart-to see it as a target and to acknowledge that it was part of life. All living things consumed life itself to survive. She had learned how to steel her nerves, but the pain was never truly gone, only dulled.

It brought several uncomfortable questions up from the recesses of her mind. "How long until I feel nothing for something I've killed?" "Will I grow to enjoy it?" "What if I become a killer?" Those questions scared her more than the most feral boar she had ever brought down.

Her father's hand rested itself on her shoulder. The very touch snapped her back to the real world, and she turned to meet her father's steeled, focused eyes.

"We have our catch." His words were steadfast as stone, but never harsh. He was bringing her back to the task at hand. "Let's go home."

"But I still have one arrow." Aria murmured.

"Don't worry about it." he said, dismissively, "This deer will last us for long enough."

Aria's eyes lingered on the doe for another second or two, then she shook it out of her head. "Okay." she yielded, "Let's...let's go home."

His duty done, her father picked up the doe and slung it over his shoulder like a burlap sack. Properly prepared, its meat would last them for days, and the pelt could be sold for a reasonable price when the time came to go to town.

Aria trailed her father back home, but hardly required his guidance. She knew many of the woodland trails by heart and which ones would take them home the fastest. Sure enough. In just a few minutes, their humble cabin came into view. The minute they were on their property, Aria's father set the doe on a tree stump. She handed him the rabbit she caught as well.

As her father set to butchering their catches, Aria took flint in hand and made her way to the nearby fireplace. She set to trying to get a fire going, both to help fight off the still-chilly air and to help prepare the meat and pelts. Once a healthy flame grew from the tinder and wood, Aria seated herself before it to ensure it stayed alive and strong for the task her father had in mind.

As she did, she let her gaze delve into its glowing warmth, allowing her mind to wander. As it normally did, her mind fell on her father. He wasn't a bad man or a bad father. She had fond memories of him from when she was young-coming home from a hunt and spending time playing make-believe, telling her stories of ages gone by and other things one would expect from a good parent.

When she thought about it, she remembered the last time she had seen him genuinely smile. It was when she turned ten years old. She had asked her father if she could hold his bow and pretend to shoot an arrow. She would never forget the disheartenment when he told her "no", only to remember the beaming smile when he held out another bow and told her that she could have her own.

He had taught her how to aim and shoot properly and, soon after, started having her accompany him on hunts, have her memorize certain trails that he had stamped out and how to navigate the complex woodland in their backyard. Slowly and subtly, he began to get more strict in his training. He was never cruel or overbearing, and he would lend his help to Aria whenever she called for it. He was never violent when it came to disciplining her, but he showed little tolerance for shortcoming.

Aria never held any kind of grudge against him. She could tell he was just preparing her to survive on her own one day. But like most children in their adolescent years, she had her fair share of things she should not have said or moments when she acted out, and upon reflection, she knew deep down that she kind of deserved what punishments came from them.

What truly worried Aria, however, was how distant he seemed to become with each passing year. She had felt him slowly push himself away from her since her training started. It was not the same as a parent readying for their child to leave home. She could feel something in the way he looked at her or averted his gaze soon after: guilt, regret, pain even.

Goddesses knew she tried her best to please him, to give him a reason to be proud. She had obeyed him to the best of her ability, woke bright and early every day, followed his training to the letter, and did chores without having been asked. But while he seemed to approve of her actions, what few smiles he gave faded almost as fast as they came and he would busy himself with something else.

Aria had tried getting him to open up, but her father was evasive as they came. If approached with certain questions, he would either end a conversation swiftly, give vague excuses or answer with broad strokes, or busy her-or himself-with some other task.

Was it something she had done? If so, what had she done? What could she have done that would make her father so sullen-sad, even?

"Aria!"

Snapped from her thoughts, Aria turned to see her father, his hands covered in the blood of rabbit and deer. His sharp tone softened when he saw that he finally had her attention.

"That fire will do just fine." he told her, "Go on inside. I'll find you when dinner's ready."

"All right." she said, standing to her feet, "Thank you, father."

Leaving her father to cook and preserve their catches, she went back inside the house. Seating herself on her lonely bed, she reached under her pillow and pulled out a worn book. It was one of the few her father could afford to give her and one of the few things she could use to escape the harsh reality of her world.

She had read this book dozens of times, but the timelessness of it always kept her coming back to it, and brought up pleasant memories of younger days. How her father had sat at her bedside, telling her the tales of legendary heroes-who had descended from the heavens, traveled through time, ventured to other realms and more. She could remember many of them by heart.

They were all too often her best escape from her mundane life as a farmer's daughter. Lost in its pages, she could forget her problems. Everything from her strict training to her father's ever-increasing distance from her would fade away, for a short time at least.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in years, he felt truly-happy. He felt whole, he experienced warmth like never before, and his heart had never felt closer to overflowing. Because she was back in his arms again. They had been reunited by what could only be described as "an act of the gods".

He did not need his eyes. He could feel the warmth of her touch, the softness of her skin, and the tresses of her long, beautiful hair. He breathed in her familiar scent and drew ease from her breath in his ear.

When he heard her melodic voice gently say his name, he lazily opened his eyes to gaze up at her angelic face-

\--

Both of his eyes sprang open. The very instant they did, the world became cold and unforgiving once more, just as it had been to him for the last decade-and-a-half.

For a time, all he could do was just lie still and stare into the dark of the night, trying to accept that the dream he had was not real. Once he had fully returned to reality, he sat up and draped his legs over the bed, combing his fingers through his dirty-blonde hair as he fought to control himself. His breath was shaky and choked, and tears stung at his eyes, yearning for release. He bit both back, forcing himself to calm his pulsing emotions.

It was an uphill battle that even he struggled to overcome.

Even after fifteen years, her memory continued to haunt his subconscious.

Looking up, he saw his daughter on the opposite bed, seemingly fast asleep if the steady rise and fall of her midsection was any indication. He envied Aria at this point. After all he had been through, peaceful sleep was a rare commodity for him.

His heart still heavy and his mind haunted by heartbreaking images, he pulled on a plain shirt and made his way towards the door. Daylight was still hours away, the night illuminated by a pearlescent full moon. Once past the threshold, he stood just outside the door, letting the cool night air steadily anchor him back to reality and brace his focus, enabling him to regain full control over his emotions.

"Father?" He did not turn at his daughter's tired, curious voice.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked her.

"I could ask the same." she retorted.

Knowing she would not leave until she got some kind of answer, he gave her the most honest answer he could. "I just had a nightmare. Needed some air. I'll be back inside in a minute."

His answer seemed good enough to her, but she did not leave him. "What did you dream about?"

He heaved a sigh. "It doesn't matter. It wasn't real. I'll be fine."

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, audible concern in her tone.

"You can rest up for tomorrow." he said, forcing some strength into his voice, "We'll have a lot of work to do in-town."

He heard his daughter sigh in mild frustration at his vague, broad-stroked answer, but she offered no complaint. Only when her footsteps faded and he heard her settle into bed did he finally move. He reached up with his left hand and dried the faint tear streaks that marred his face.

He did not want to appear weak to his daughter, especially for what was soon to come. He did not know "how" or "when", only that it would.

Whether or not he could convince himself to go through with it, he did not know. He still felt Aria had much to learn and a good bit more to grow, but it was not enough to distract him from the dread in the air that grew heavier and heavier by the day. Both he and his daughter would, inevitably, have to face it one day.

Almost on instinct, he held up his left hand and clenched it hard in his right, as though nursing some old wound. Eyes shut, teeth clenched and brow furrowed, he tried to find the answer within, to drown out the pain within.

He found none.

"Dearest…" he thought to himself, hoping she could hear his thoughts, wherever she may be, "What am I going to do?"

\--

Aria woke a few hours later with the rising sun. Once again, her father had risen before her and was making the last few preparations before they went into town that day. After what happened late last night, Aria suspected her father never truly slept. He had been up later than she had, yet still somehow managed to be an earlier riser.

The meat and pelts from yesterday's catch had been butchered and spiced-pumpkins weren't the only thing they grew in their garden. Some meat cuts had been set aside for their own food supply, while others were to be sold in-town.

Aria rounded up the three goats she had chosen from the previous day and selected two pumpkins in fine condition. With all their wares selected, the two set off to the east. Lacking any mount or wagon, they had to go on-foot: a journey that lasted them an hour if weather and circumstance allowed. In the past, Aria had exchanged pleasant banter with her father, talking about whatever subject happened to cross her mind. No matter how nonsensical or childish, he used to delight in such a thing. Now he seldom spoke, only doing so when necessary or giving her basic advice.

They arrived in town without hitch and, finding a small patch of land by the road, Aria's father had set out a plain mat and the wares for passersby to inspect. She took her seat right next to him, calling out to anyone who passed by and offering them healthy goats and quality spoils from their hunt. An hour passed, however, and they only managed to sell one goat for a few red rupees. Aria's father must have sensed the mental toll it was taking on her, for her calls grew less and less enthused with each passerby.

"Aria?" he piped up, catching her attention, "I can handle this for awhile, if you're bored. You can go."

Aria gave him a small smile, welcoming the chance to get on her feet. A thought crossed her mind before she took off, then she turned to her father.

"Can I buy a new book?" He raised his brow at the sudden question, prompting her to explain further. "I love the one I have, but I'd like to read a new story. I've even been saving rupees for one." She held up a pouch that she had been storing rupees in for months, to show that she did not lie.

Her father cast her a penetrating stare, but then closed his eyes and nodded in defeat. "Sure. But you know the rule, right?"

"Yes." she said with a nod, "Thank you." With permission granted, she ventured into town at a brisk walk.

"The Rule" he had mentioned was simple-she was not to read or purchase a book on Hyrule's history. She did not know her father's reasoning for this term, but did not question it. She had little interest in it, favoring tales of fantasy and heroes over events that occurred long ago. She yearned to escape her menial life, not learn of events and names from long ago.

Going to a simple cottage, Aria pushed open the door and was met with a candle-lit, homely interior that had walls lined with books. Seated at a desk in the center was an aged, bespectacled man that glanced up at Aria when he heard the door open, his eyes seemingly magnified by his glasses. A smile graced his face, though, when he recognized his newest customer.

"Ah, it's you, Ari!" he said in a soft, mildly-educated voice, using a pet-name that pleasant townsfolk affectionately called her, "Grown tired of your old book yet?"

"Hello, Lucius." she said, sheepishly. She was unaccustomed to such attention from other people. This bookkeeper never made it secret that he had a fondness for her and her love of stories. "And yes, I finally have had enough. I can only read the same story so many times before it gets old."

"Well, you've come at the right time, young lady!" Lucius said, hustling out from behind his desk, "Memory serves, you still have a fascination for the old legends of the Hero of Hyrule?"

"Really?" she said with mildly-feigned interest, "What evil does he conquer this time?"

"Hard to say. It only just came in. I haven't found the time to read it, actually. You beat me to it." he answered, causing Aria to stifle a laugh, then stopped at a shelf and began browsing through the book covers, "Oh! This one!"

Lucius pulled out a leather-bound book and handed it to Aria, who took it and inspected it. In gilded lettering, the title read, "The Hero and The Goddess From On High".

"I might be mistaken, but I do believe this is a rare one-supposedly, it's an account of the first-ever in the line of Heroes." Lucius said with barely-controlled excitement, "If it's true, then I'm sure you are going to love it!"

"Thank you very much, sir." Aria said, then handed him what rupees she owed and departed, already flipping open the book to read it.

She had barely gotten out the door when she almost walked, headlong, into two people. Only the sharpest halt she had done in years stopped her from colliding with their backs. Apparently, it was still enough to warrant a vicious response, as they turned on her the instant she was in arm's reach.

"Watch where you're going, vai!" A sharp, female voice ferociously snapped.

"Sorry!" Aria said, hurriedly.

Only when the adrenaline of embarrassment and rushed apology faded did Aria actually take in what these particular people looked like. They were both women, but were unlike any that Aria had ever seen. They stood almost a full head taller than her, had skin the color of fresh soil and rich, red hair tied back in a ponytail, held up by a gem-encrusted hairpiece.

What stood out to Aria the most about these women were their choice of attire. While most women she met were modestly-dressed in the plainest of garbs, these two women showed much more skin than she'd ever seen or thought passable to commonfolk. From loose-fitting silk pants to a short-cut top that made no effort to hide their defined abdomens, this attire was alien to Aria.

What made Aria the most uncomfortable were their faces-lips painted with bright-pink, eyes of a fierce, hawklike orange, and a long, hook-like nose that made them look even more like predatory birds. Not helping was the fact that both of them had a long, curved sword sheathed on their waists.

"If you're really sorry," one of the women hissed at her, "Then quit gawking and get lost!"

Aria turned quickly to circle around them and ran as fast as she could, her book hugged to her chest. Even at several yards' distance, she felt like their cold gazes were still following her.

When she finally felt like she had lost them, she found herself near the center of town.

Aria lifted her bag of rupees. She still had a few left over. Remembering that she was somewhat-short on arrows and not wanting to let an opportunity go to waste, she visited the local huntsman and purchased what arrows she could afford with her remaining rupees. She did not waste time with small talk. Deep down, she wanted to leave without laying eyes on those women again.

When she returned to her father's makeshift stand, she was pleased to see that all three goats, both pelts, and a good portion of the meat had been bartered off. Whatever meat they could not sell, Aria and her father would find good use for.

"Productive day, I take it?" she asked with an optimistic shrug.

"Fairly. I've earned enough to last us a few months." her father replied in his typical blunt fashion, then cast his gaze to the sky. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky. "We've done all we can for now. Let's go home."

Aria tucked her new book into her satchel, then helped her father pack up what they had for the long trek home. As they finished up and headed for the town's exit, Aria's mind strayed back to the strangers. In all her visits here, she had never seen anything like them.

Who were they? Why were they there? What could bring such outlandish-looking people to such a humble village?


	3. Chapter 3

The woman strode through a dark hallway. She had arrived at her destination in mere hours, as promised, thanks to her honed horseback skills. Turning a corner, she happened upon a cloaked figure, obviously expecting her from its unflinching demeanor.

"Majesty." she greeted, "A messenger hawk just arrived with a possible lead from the southern borders of Hyrule."

Silence met her for several seconds, until another voice spoke. "What did you find?" It was male-deep and resonant from the chest, but also as dark as a cave.

"A man in a small village meets several of your descriptions. From what I read, he's likely nearing his forties, has blonde hair, and is keeping to himself." she reported, "And he's not alone. He has a girl with him."

The figure paused, an aura of intrigue encompassing his consciousness, but did not give in to it. It was too soon and the descriptions were too vague.

"They have a location?"

"Yes." she responded, "According to my sisters, all they need are your orders."

The figure hummed in thought, then nodded to her. "Bring him to me." he told her, "Let me judge him with my own eyes."

"Yes, my lord." she said with a bow, then turned to depart.

As soon as she was gone, the figure delved into his own thoughts. "Could it be him? Could it be the one who got away?" he asked, then allowed himself a slight laugh, "If he's hidden this long, I wonder how he will respond to the sight of an old enemy?"

\--

The next day brought more or less the same chores that Aria was used to. She found herself, once again, tending the farm and monitoring the goats. Currently, she was helping till soil so that new crops could be grown. If they planted them now, they would have plenty of vegetables by the end of the season.

That was, until…

SNAP!

The head of her father's hoe embedded itself in the ground and stuck as the wood handle splintered right at the tool's head. He lifted it up with wide eyes, then furrowed his brow as he tossed the now-useless handle aside with a curse.

"Broken." he muttered to Aria, then turned to the house. "Keep working. I'll see if there's another in the house."

When he disappeared behind a door, Aria stifled a laugh, then set back to work overturning soil. It legitimately amused her to see him so grumpy. It was a nice change of pace from the stoic, expressionless mask he wore, and she wished she could see just a little more from him-

The sound of rustling vegetation caught her ear. She stood straight up, eyes and ears searching for the source of the noise. It had sounded close. Another noise joined the rustling of bushes and low-hanging branches. It started faint, then grew louder and louder with each passing second-a bout of screeches and screams that sounded almost like a horrific, undead creature from the darker stories she had read.

A bush on the rim of the forest shook, then parted its leafy curtain as something charged through it. It was a boar, snorting and squealing as it violently shook its head to and fro, like it was trying to shake some nasty parasite. Aria knew not to provoke these wild hogs. She'd had to stitch several wounds that her father sustained from their four-inch tusks.

Something was different-most boars retreated into the woods if approached, but this particular one looked disoriented, pained even. At times, it even seemed oblivious to its own surroundings, often crashing into nearby tree trunks and boulders.

The boar looked Aria's way and she actually screamed at what she saw. The skin around the boar's left eye had peeled away, revealing raw muscle and even the bone of its skull, with a strange, dark substance rimming the circlet of bare flesh. The beast was not blind, it seemed, for its lidless left eye fixated itself on Aria and the mere sight of a Hylian was enough for it to unleash a frenzied scream before charging at her.

Aria sidestepped the beast, its hooves thundering just past her and into the patch of garden, stampeding through what vegetation had grown. The quickest path of retreat was back to the house, but Aria knew boars were fast creatures and to never turn your back on one. The frenzied swine proved a different ordeal, however. It missed Aria on its first charge, but it pivoted swiftly and gave chase. Aria backtracked faster than she ever had before, dodging to the side every time it charged at her, circling to always keep it in her sight. Suddenly, her heel hit an outcropping in the ground and she fell backward, barely catching herself on her hands, but forced to crawl backward as the boar readied its next charge.

"Aria!"

She had barely registered the voice shouting her name and scrambled to her feet when something whistled through the air, striking the boar right in the forehead. The beast's front dropped so suddenly and heavily that it flipped, head-over-heels, before remaining motionless on the ground. Aria turned to see her father, holding her bow, headed straight for her from the doorway.

He knelt to meet her gaze and asked, "Are you alright?"

Aria took a moment to try and steady her breathing. "I'm fine. Just...shaken."

Her father sighed in relief, then stood and went over to the felled boar. Aria picked herself up and hastily hurried over to join him. The look on his face was one she had never seen before. His eyes were wide at the sight of the boar's left eye.

"Oh no." she heard him faintly whisper, "It can't be…"

"What? What can't be? What's wrong with it?" Question after question fell from Aria's mouth until her father looked at her. Then she finally put the pieces together and asked another, not out of fright or uncertainty, but concern. "You've seen this before. Haven't you?"

Link looked at the boar again, then back at Aria. "Yes." he answered, gravely, before sharply ordering, "Check the spice garden. Quickly."

Aria and her father ran to the garden. On arrival, nothing appeared wrong, but then Aria's father took a spade and a small sack, kneeling to check each plant with swift-but-sharp observation. He was at it for more than a minute when he suddenly recoiled and held out his hand as though it had been stung.

"Father!" Aria cried, going to his side immediately. What she saw horrified her-a pulsating, black-and-red substance on her father's index finger. It almost looked alive and, from the sound of his voice, it clearly pained him.

"Your knife!" he told her through gritted teeth, "Give it to me!" He held out her hand.

Aria stared in shock at her father. Was he seriously considering-?

"I won't cut off my finger. Now, give it to me!"

Barely finding the strength to trust his words, Aria unsheathed the knife on her belt and handed it to him. He didn't try to cut off his finger, as promised. Instead, he placed the blade on his skin and slid it down, scraping the substance off, showing relief when he was rid of it. He flicked it into the small sack, then used the spade to uproot the plant he touched and put it in as well.

"If you've seen it before, what is that?" Aria asked, concern thick in her voice, "Is that what made the boar act like that?"

Plucking the last tainted plant, her father went eerily quiet, then turned and with the slightest shake to his breath. "It is. It's called 'malice'."

He looked at his hand, the skin of his finger was a raw, pinkish color, as though scalded by boiling water. "It slowly kills plants and turns them poisonous. If you had eaten one of these, you'd have been sick at least and dead at worst. Animals are affected if they eat something touched by it or they're touched themselves."

"Wait," Aria said, seeing it on his finger and what it had done, "Does that mean you'll…?" She could not bring herself to finish that sentence.

"No." he hastily assured her, "It doesn't affect people. It burns us on touch and makes us sick when we eat it. It's only fatal in large doses. You need to touch a lot of it for a very long time if you wanted it to kill you."

Aria breathed a sigh of relief. That relief slowly melted to suspicion and she looked at her father, hoping it was not visible in her eyes.

"When did you last see it?" she asked.

Her father cast his gaze to the side, as though weighing his options, but then stood. "It will have to wait. I have much to tell you, but this isn't the time or place." He took the sack of infected plants and threw them on the boar, then started gathering kindling and firewood from a log pile just beside the door. "I'll get a fire going. We cannot risk hapless animals finding-and eating-these. They must be burned."

"And what do you want me to do?" Aria inquired.

"Go back to the house." he said in a hushed voice, "Pack only what you need, and release the goats." He gave her one last look, letting it be known that this was no request, but an order. "We cannot stay any longer. We're leaving."

Aria could only look at her father in shock. This was not completely new-every few years since she was young, she remembered her father would take her to a new home and start a new farm. But the way he said it now felt so much heavier and dead-serious that it almost felt like a blunt force. She did not know what to say or how to respond to such behavior, and it scared her slightly.

Feeling returned to her after a few seconds and, just as her father got the fire started, she clenched a hand into a fist to restore her anchorage to the world, then turned toward the goat pen. She did not bother with subtlety. She flung open the gate to their pen so hard that it almost fell off its hinges. The goats did not even wait to ponder their freedom, bounding off to places Aria could only imagine the minute they were out of the borders.

Her task complete, she looked to the now-roaring fire her father had going. The dead hog was going to smell strongly, even after it was reduced to nothing more than bones. She went inside, her father hot on her heels, and started going through what few belongings she possessed. After packing some food, a few essentials like firewood and tinder, extra clothing, and a full quiver of arrows for her bow, Aria paused and looked to the book she had received from her venture into town. After a moment's hesitation, she snatched it and put it into a pack.

She slowed to a halt and looked to her father's back, curiosity furrowing her brow. "Where will we go?" she asked, forcing some strength into her voice.

"Not now, Aria." her father said, hurriedly, as he stuffed another object into his pack.

"Is that blight really so bad that we have to leave this quickly?" she asked, seeming to forget about packing and approaching her father.

"You have no idea." he answered her.

"You're right. I don't." she huffed, "Are you always this evasive with questions like this?"

This caused her father to stop packing, then stood and turned to face her. His face looked like it could have been carved from stone.

"Our lives are at stake right now." he said, his voice tense as though he was straining to not yell at her, "I can tell you more when we are far away from here, but we don't know what will-"

Something suddenly slammed onto the door, repeatedly, causing both father and child to stop what they were doing and glance its way. All was quiet for a second before another series of loud knocks struck the door.

"We know you're in there! There's no use hiding!" a woman's voice called, "Come on out! King's orders!"

"Aria," her father said in a harsh whisper, the rare sound of fear ringing in his voice, "Hide. Now!"

Aria looked around. There was nothing to hide behind or under. The small table and beds offered so little cover that it would have been worse than useless to even try.

"Where?" she asked, her voice matching her father's.

Amid another bout of bangs and aggressive demands from their unknown harassers, he went over to a small carpet on the floor, then pulled it away to reveal a latch. He pulled it up, and the hatch of a trapdoor opened up.

"In here! And, no matter what happens, stay quiet!" he hissed, beckoning Aria toward it.

Recognizing this was no time to question anything, from when that trapdoor was built or why her father needed one, Aria scrambled inside and huddled herself to the first wall that she could find. The trapdoor fell shut and, after hearing her father throw the carpet over it, she was left by herself as things went eerily quiet.

Alone in the darkness, she waited-and prayed-for his safe return. He could not answer her plethora of questions if he was dead.


	4. Chapter 4

His daughter safe and out of sight, he went to the door, bracing for the worst. From their feminine voices to their orders from "the king", he had a good idea of what awaited him on the other side.

But if the malice outside was any indication of anything, it was that he could not run from his problems. Not anymore.

He pulled open the door and a fire lit in his stomach. Two women with earthy-colored skin, flaming-red hair and orange eyes. Both took in his appearance and their painted lips curved into smiles.

"Well, well," one of them said, amusedly, "You took your time in there. Did we arrive at a bad time?"

"What do you want?" he asked, not giving an inch to her taunt.

"We're looking for someone, under the king's orders." the second answered him, "You seem to match a lot of the descriptions, so we're here to escort you to him, personally."

"Whoever your king is thinking about," he told them, shaking his head, "I am not him. Continue your search elsewhere."

If either were convinced, they did not show. If anything, the women looked even more amused.

"We saw you in town earlier with a teenage girl. Is she your daughter?" one of them asked, slyly.

"She's not here." he said, shaking his head, "She went hunting in the woods."

"Oh?" They mocked intrigue. "Should we leave a message that her father dearest had an important meeting with the king?"

He gritted his teeth as he tried, again, to reason with them. "You would not rob a girl of her father over a baseless suspicion?"

"We would if the king demanded it, which he has. In fact, if she came out of those trees right here and now, we'd take her to him too, as a guest of honor." The other woman spoke without the slightest hint of concern, then pulled a curved dagger from her belt and pointed its tip right at his chest. "Enough excuses. Make this easy on yourself, old voe, and come with us."

The two women moved towards him, one on each side, both with daggers out and gleaming in the sun. He slowly backed away, casting a glance to his sides, briefly wondering how much his daughter had heard of their conversation.

There and then, he made up his mind.

No more of this.

The malice was telltale enough that time had run out and that there was nowhere left to run or hide. Now, he knew he was actively hunted and that a terrible fate awaited Aria regardless of whether or not she intervened.

But that would only happen if he did nothing. For the first time in years, action would net him favorable results.

He could not ignore this chance.

"No." His voice had rumbled from his chest, much to the surprise of the two women.

"I beg your pardon?" One of them asked, "I told you that 'no' was not an option."

She reached forward and gripped his wrist. His muscles tensed on contact and his fierce, blue eyes focused on her with a new fire in them.

"Let. Me. Go."

The woman scoffed. "You're in no position to make demands of the king's messengers. Now come quietly-"

It happened too fast for either woman to comprehend. One second she grasped his arm and had him at knifepoint, the next she had landed flat on her back, clutching a now-bleeding nose.

Her sister stared in disbelief at how fast everything occurred, then pondered just who this man could be. She and her sister were well-trained if their leanly-muscled arms and midriffs were any indication, yet this man-a humble farmer from the middle of nowhere-managed to dislodge her so swiftly.

The other woman sheathed her dagger and pulled out a gleaming scimitar in its place. "So there's more to you than meets the eye?" she said, holding the blade up and pointing its tip at him like an accusing finger, "Now I'm really curious as to why his majesty is so interested in you."

She winked, seemingly at him, but he saw right through her charade and ducked to the side just as the other woman lunged with her knife. She stumbled right past him, but turned on a dime to take a swipe at his face. Rather than step out of her reach, he ducked down low, letting the short blade pass over his head. Following up too fast for her to respond, he slammed the point of his elbow hard into her midsection.

The woman crumpled to her knees, then fell to all fours as she vomited up her stomach's contents-a testament to the damage inflicted on her abdomen. While she was temporarily out of the picture, the woman with the sword flew at her target, scimitar poised to cut a piece off of him.

He was quite resourceful, as she soon learned, for he pulled her sister's sword from the scabbard and used it, not to cut her down, but to parry the attack. He knocked the initial swing away with the borrowed blade, then quickly brought it down to block, their locked blades forming an "X" pattern, fiery orange eyes locking with ocean-blue as they pushed with all their might.

"Quite the swordsman, I see…" she said through grit teeth, "Now I really want to know why you have his majesty's attention, when I deliver you to him-!"

He pushed hard, sending her staggering away, but it did little to throw off her balance, for she was back in a combat stance in a split-second. He was too, however, and he sharply swung to intercept her roaring charge.

His stolen blade met, not the woman's own… But her wrist.

Shrieking in agony, the woman fell to her knees, clutching the bloody stump that was now her wrist. Her hand lay just beside her, still clasping the hilt of her scimitar.

"Sister!"

He turned and saw the other woman had regained her bearings, her horrified expression quickly turning to rage as she took up her dagger again and threw herself towards him. He casually sidestepped her thrust and, releasing his own scimitar, seized her around the neck with one hand and clasped her wrist in the other, keeping the dagger well out of reach.

His rage slowly faded to bitter contempt and, with a final heave, he tossed her to her defeated sister. Picking up the scimitar again, he pointed it at them.

"Take your sister and go." he said, sharply, "If you don't treat her wound, she'll be dead in an hour."

The sister that still bore both of her hands looked between him and her sister, then narrowed her eyes venomously before getting to her feet. She helped her sister to her feet, and walked away.

One turned back and called, "It will not end here! When his majesty learns of this-!"

"I'll be LONG gone by then!"

His bark-like voice silenced them, save for one last venomous glance, then their focus returned back to their path ahead. He watched them go a fair distance away before the weight of the situation finally took hold. He heaved a deep sigh and brought a hand to his face.

"So this is it..." he said, his voice quivering, hovering just above a whisper. A swirl of emotions stormed through him-relief and hope, but also fear and dread. "No more hiding. No more waiting."

As he told himself this, however, he looked at the back of his left hand. In the fight, some of his wrappings had come loose. His right hand hovered over it, wanting to pull them off for just a moment, but he bit it back swiftly and simply tightened them again.

It was then that he acknowledged the one aspect that made the path ahead seem so difficult and hard. It was not him. He had been hoping for a chance to finally set things in motion for over a decade. It was the girl he had hidden beneath the trapdoor.

"But what if she isn't ready? For the truth...or everything that is to come?"

\--

For several minutes, Aria waited in darkness, hearing only muffled voices from within her confinement. Her breathing actually hitched when she heard raised voices and clanging metal. She feared the worst and that her father was never coming back.

Just as she thought of trying to get out and check if the danger had passed, the trapdoor creaked open again. She flinched and retreated at the sound, but her nerves calmed instantly as her father's voice rang out. "They're gone."

A second later and he pivoted his body over the edge, jumping down to her level. Several questions plagued Aria's mind, but she started with, "Who was it?"

He let loose a breath, almost as if in defeat, then looked her in the eye. "Did you see anyone when we were in town yesterday?" he asked her, "Anyone out-of-the-ordinary?"

Aria briefly thought about it, then answered without hesitation the instant an image sprang to mind. "Yes! Two women! They were dressed in…" She paused to search for the right word, "I don't know! I've never seen clothes like theirs, but they had dark skin and red hair. I think they were foreigners."

"Gerudo." Her father said to himself.

"Gerudo?"

"Women from the western desert." he told her, "Now they're the king's guard."

"I...I don't understand." Aria said, now genuinely confused, "The king's guard? Here? What would they want with you? With us?"

Her father's eyes fell to the side, as though not sure what the best answer for that was. When his eyes fell on hers again, he answered, "I don't know. They're looking for someone and thought I matched the description."

Aria gave him a puzzled look, as though not entirely believing him. Then her eyes met something on his face. She gestured to her cheek and her father dabbed at the same spot with his fingers, revealing a small smear of red.

Blood.

"Did you...fight them?" she asked, almost fearing the answer he would give.

"Aria," he said, a hint of plea in his otherwise-stern voice, "They were threatening to take me away from you. I couldn't leave you to fend for yourself. At best, I'd be imprisoned for months. At worst, I'd be killed!"

"Father, you have blood on your-" She interjected, but her father cut her off, his voice sharp and defensive.

"I didn't kill them, if that's what you're thinking." He did not lie.

When Aria continued to look unconvinced, he shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I know you have a lot of questions, but we must leave soon. Those women are gone for now, but I suspect they will return and in greater numbers. We'll likely only have an hour or two before they show up."

He walked past Aria to a darker corner of the compartment, reached down and hoisted up a large, wooden chest. Aria had not noticed it in the darkness, being more focused on staying put and keeping quiet. Tentatively, he took it by the edges, opening it slowly-almost reverently-and gazed upon its contents. Curious, Aria peeked past her father to see what was inside.

Her eyes fell upon the face of a round, wooden shield. Its surface was painted green, bearing white dragon-like symbols snaking around a sturdy, iron boss right in the center. From its smooth, unscratched surface, it appeared to be kept in good condition. Her father pulled the shield from the chest and what Aria saw beneath it captivated her further. He drew, from the chest, a sword at least three feet long and of simple design. With one hand on the length of the sheath and one hand on the handle, he lifted it up like it was a relic of ages gone, or that he was looking at the face of a beloved friend that he believed long-dead. Strapping the sheath to his back and slinging his shield over it soon after, he turned back to Aria. One look was enough to tell her that she would get answers when they were well out of reach of the Gerudo or beyond their ability to track.

He approached the trapdoor and crouched, clasping his hands together. Aria knew this position all too well and took a small running start before placing a foot on his clasped hands. One push from him aided her in clambering over the ledge. Once she was out, she leaned over the edge and offered a hand, which he took and used to pull himself to the ledge and clamber out.

As they both exited the house, only their necessities in their travel packs, Aria was of a mind to ask where their journey would begin, but then her father went over to the still-roaring fire, where all infected plants and the boar still burned. He took a particularly large branch that was still alight, and without a single ounce of hesitation, threw it into the still-open door.

"Father! What are you-?!" Aria asked in surprise, but he took her by the shoulder and turned her to their path ahead.

"We need to cover our tracks." he told her quietly and swiftly, "Make them believe we were attacked at least." He then added, his voice deepening and taking a more somber note, "And by doing this, we will have nowhere to return. From now on, we can only go forward."

Aria bit back tears, knowing her father had a point, but sad to leave behind the home she had known since childhood, never to return again. She watched smoke start to rise from the windows and doorway, already beginning to picture what it would look like in a matter of minutes. In the end, she forced her emotions down and turned her back on her home, continuing to walk, even as the humble house slowly began to go up in flames.


	5. Chapter 5

Aria did not know how long they had traveled, but she knew this was not going to be like the visits into town. They passed right through town without a word or even stopping to speak with passersby, down the forest path leading out of the village, and then out to a great hill. When Aria and her father neared the top of the hill, he hastened his pace somewhat, finding a boulder and resting his foot on it as he gazed out into the distance. Curious as to what lay ahead, Aria hurried to meet him.

What she saw caused her eyes to go wide with pure, unrestrained amazement. She could not help but go “Wow” at what she saw.

A vast, green field lay before her, with a winding, earthen path etched into the ground and lush-looking patches of trees dotting the landscape. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and, far off on the horizon was a vast mountain with a ringlet of clouds circling around it. Out in the middle of this vast field stood a walled city with a magnificent castle towering from within.

Aria had never ventured far from the woods in her life, and any time she and her father had relocated, it had always been from one wooded area to another, and always on the outskirts, away from these very fields. Seeing this landscape was almost too much to comprehend. The best she could compare it to was an excerpt of her old book--of when the Hero first came upon a vast, open field.

“This, Aria,” her father said, as though introducing an old and beloved friend to her, “Is Hyrule.”

Aria took in the scope of the land, then turned to her father. “Where are we going?”

“North.” he told her, “Towards the center of Hyrule. I know someone there who might be able to help us.”

Aria’s curiosity about the identity of this ‘someone’ in question slowly turned into a light smile and she stifled a laugh. Not soon enough, she learned, for her father turned and gave her a puzzled look.

“Sorry.” she said, “It’s just hard to imagine you outside our home, or the village.”

She half-expected him to scold her for making a slight joke, or to turn away with a huff at least. To her surprise, though, he just shrugged as he returned his sight to the grassy field. “After our way of life, I can’t really blame you. Now,” he said, turning to descend down the hillside, “We’d best make use of daylight while we still can.”

Aria trailed him as close as she could without being intrusive, her eyes trained on his back as they found and walked the winding road. Her eyes also fixated on the shield slung across it, and the sword that hid beneath it.

“Where did you get those? The shield and sword, I mean.” she asked, “I’ve never seen swords at the local market. I don’t think the smiths make them.”

Her father continued down the path, but slowed his pace to glance over his shoulder. Inwardly, Aria started to regret asking, but before she could apologize and take it back, he sighed, turned back to the path, and picked up his pace once more. He took a breath, as though steeling his nerves, then spoke.

“I got them not long after you were born. I needed something to defend myself-and you-because the world got steadily harsher.”

“And you know how to use them?” Aria inquired. She figured anyone could take up a sword and shield, having seen passersby in the old local village possessing them. These travelers always looked about as battered as their own gear. It was one thing to own something, it was another entirely to actually know how to use them properly.

“Yes.” her father answered, “I was in the Hylian army. Long before you were born and before I met your mother.”

This piqued Aria’s interest, but the answer only brought more questions. Cautiously trying not to pry, Aria asked, “So, why is a soldier living as a farmer on the outskirts?”

Her father seemed to be searching himself for the best way to answer without digging too deep, then shook his head. Not to ignore or dismiss her question, as she soon found out. “A full-scale attack,” he said, “Unlike anything that Hyrule has ever seen.  
“Not long after you were born, a whole army of creatures attacked the land--vicious, inhuman monsters. We were thrown completely off-guard. It was a miracle that anyone survived.”

Aria stopped. Her lack of footsteps caught her father’s ears, for he paused and turned. His expression softened slightly at the sight of her face. “Is that how...” Aria’s voice trailed slightly--remaining cautious yet soft, “How mother died?”

Her father nodded solemnly. “I barely escaped the battle and ran straight home to make sure both of you were safe.” He shook his head as his vision fell to the ground. “I was too late to save her.” He looked back up at her, letting his sincerity show in his eyes. “But not you. I took you from our ruined home and settled into the southern borders. There, I waited for the battles to die down.”

“And have they?” Aria asked.

“To an extent.” he answered, “The fighting died down, but such creatures persist to this day. I hear they still walk this land in scattered troops. We’d best keep our guards up.”

Her father definitely cleared up many of the questions she had. It explained a lot and much of it added up, from explaining his stoic demeanor to his hardened approach to basic hunting training. She could even believe that he would resort to using more common blades and shields--if his story was anything to go by, he had no time to retrieve military-grade weapons and armor.

The problem she had was that he used broad strokes to answer her questions--he filled many a space, but did not go into details. As much as she wanted to press him for such details, Aria likely knew what it would lead to--silence or a change of subject.

Patience, she reminded herself. They would have time on their journey to find clarity with each other. Hopefully.

\--

An hour or two on the road finally brought them to a small settlement: a high, wooden fence spanning a hundred yards at least. Her father’s gaze fell upon it and Aria could have sworn she heard her father say, “Right where I remember it.” under his breath.

They circled around the place until they found the gate and passed through it. What Aria saw inside widened her eyes once again. It was a broad expanse of grass with a metal fence encircling it, outlined by what appeared to be an earthy pathway. Within that enclosure were at least half a dozen horses, all of varying colors and breeds, casually strolling along and grazing on whatever fresh grass they could find.

Her father, however, was not going towards the enclosure, but a two-floor house roughly a stone’s throw away from it. He took a deep breath, then raised a hand and knocked on the door. A few seconds of silence, then he knocked again, more fervently this time. This time, a muffled voice called from inside.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” A woman’s voice answered, obviously annoyed at what appeared to be a sudden intrusion.

A few seconds later and the door swung open. A woman, not much older than her father, peered out to see what the commotion was about. She wore a simple, white blouse, a deep-purple skirt, and a yellow kerchief around her neck. Adorning her head was deep-red hair with faint streaks of white that betrayed her age.

“Okay, I’m here!” she said, her voice tinted with a soft, sweet-sounding country twang, “Now how can I help-”

By this point, the woman had laid eyes on her father and she went wide-eyed in what could only be shock. She and her father’s eyes stayed locked as he offered a small, nostalgic smile. The woman reached out with a trembling hand, as though afraid her father was some phantom that would disappear the moment she touched him. The woman’s hand touched his cheek and she lightly jolted, surprised that she actually touched him.

“I-It can’t be…” she said, incredulously, “Link? Is it...Is it really you?”

“Yes.” her father said, softly, “I know it seems unreal...but I’m here.”

Her eyes welled with tears, despite the broad smile that swiftly spread across her face. Without another word, she threw her arms around “Link” and embraced him tightly. “Oh, goddesses! Bless them!” she said, trying and failing to choke back her own sobs as she buried her face in his shoulder, “When I heard word of the attack, I-I...I thought you were...you were…but you’re alive!”

“Shhh…” he said, wrapping his arms around her middle and gently stroking her back, “It’s going to be okay. I’m home now.”

The lady pulled back, face stained with fresh tears but sporting a broad smile. She quickly wiped away the tear stains and shakily tried to rebuild her composure. Her eyes then fell on Aria and her mouth fell open.

“And you must be Aria!” she said, her sorrow slowly transitioning to pure awe, “Goddesses, you’re so big now!”

“I, er…” Aria said, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Oh! Sorry!” the woman said pleasantly. Aria was starting to find it hard to believe she was in tears mere seconds ago, “Last time I saw you, you were just a baby. Let me introduce myself. My name is Malon.”

Aria looked to her father, wanting some kind of explanation from him. Putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder, Link introduced her. “She’s my sister--your aunt.”

“And this,” Malon said, gesturing with her arm to signify the entire place, “Is Lon Lon Ranch, where we both grew up.”

“You lived here? I thought you were a soldier?” Aria asked.

“I wasn’t always a soldier.” her father said, shaking his head, then turned to his sister. “Malon, pardon the intrusion, but we need to stay here a while. Just a day or two.”

“Nonsense! You stay as long as you need.” Malon said to him with a dismissive wave, “Have either of you eaten today?”

“Not since we left, actually.” Aria answered, cutting across her father before he could interject, “That was hours ago.”

“By the goddesses, how have you not collapsed?” she said with mock surprise, then stepped back inside and called, “Leon! Get down here! We’ve got guests!”

Hurried thumps heralded someone quickly descending a set of stairs. Turning the corner, to both Aria’s and Link’s surprise, was a young man--a little older than Aria, taller than every person in the room, well-built and broad-shouldered, and had a head of hair virtually identical to Malon’s in coloration.

“I’m here!” he said, with the same country twang as Malon, then saw the two at the door, “And who’re these strangers?”

“This is my son Leon.” Malon introduced, “Leon, you may not remember, but these are your uncle and cousin--Link and Aria.”

Leon looked between them, then focused solely on Link. He squinted his eyes as he approached, only for them to go wide as realization suddenly dawned upon him.

“Uncle Link!” he exclaimed, then bear-hugged Aria’s father and hoisted him clean off the ground, “I haven’t seen you in years! Ma told me you were dead!”

“Leon...You’re...you’re crushing me…” Link said, struggling to keep a modicum of air in his lungs. Once the boy had released him, he struggled to regain his balance and he looked him up and down. “I don’t believe it,” Link said, as though he could not believe his eyes, “You’re little Leon?” He let himself laugh--something Aria had rarely seen him do. “I remember when you didn't even come up to my middle. Now, you’re taller than me.”

Leon laughed nervously. “Yeah. Ma tells me that farm life does that to a growing boy.” He turned to Aria and looked almost as awestruck as Link had with him. “And this is my little baby cousin? People say I sprouted, but,” He lifted his hand and rested it on top of her head, “They clearly haven’t met you, I’d say.”

Both smiling and blushing in embarrassment, Aria did not shy away from his kind, lightly-humorous gesture. Malon, at that time, caught their attention by clearing her throat.

“Well,” the redheaded woman said, “This has been quite the reunion, but I think we’d best get indoors. I don’t know how long you’ve been traveling, but you look like you could use a meal.”

“Oh, no, Malon.” Link piped up, “You don’t have to, especially on such short notice-”

“Hush, brother.” Malon cut him off, “We’ve all been through a lot. This is the least I can do.”

As Malon turned to go back into the house, Leon gave Aria and Link a look that seemed to tell them that arguing was a fruitless endeavor. Simultaneously smiling and sighing in defeat, Link turned to follow his sister with Aria trailing behind him.

When Aria saw the interior of the house, she saw so much improvement in living, even in the knowledge that this was just a slight step up from how she was living. There was a small stairwell leading to four different rooms, a fireside complete with cooking utensils, and a bowl of fresh fruit on a dining table.

“It’s not much, but it should suit you just fine.” Malon said as she shuffled through dishes and pans.

Link looked around and seemed lost in thought. This, Aria reminded herself, used to be his home. He breathed a nostalgic sigh, then went over to Malon, whispering something in her ear that Aria could not hear. Malon nodded, seemingly uneasily, then went back to cooking.

A thought occurred to Aria and she turned to Leon. “Where’s your father?” she asked. Immediately, she wished that she had not asked. Leon’s face fell and he looked away in shame.

“Gone.” he said, “I was only a boy, but… Ma said that he left for a delivery one morning and never came back. Turned out he died when Hyrule was attacked.”

“Oh.” Aria said, doing her best to let her empathy show in her voice, “I’m so sorry. Father told me that’s how I lost my mother, too.”

“Whole thing robbed everyone of something, it seems.” he said, managing a small, ironic laugh, then shook his head and went to his mother to see if he could help with the cooking.

Malon took time away from the kitchen to point Aria upstairs. “We have rooms for weary travelers. You can have one of your choosing. Get cozy while I get supper ready.”

Aria went upstairs, eager to familiarize herself with her new surroundings, then opened the second door down. It wasn’t a huge room--just a soft-looking bed, a window, and a bedside table adorned with a lantern. She sat down on the edge of the bed before falling straight back onto it. The softness of the mattress surprised her and, for a brief moment, she thought she’d fall straight through it. The next second, however, she found herself enjoying it. The bed in her old homes had always been little more than a wicker spread with minimal actual bedding and a makeshift blanket. Here, it was soft, cozy and warm. She legitimately could have fallen asleep in that very moment and she would have been very content.

It was not much of a step up from her past state of living, but already Aria was wishing she had lived here.


	6. Chapter 6

After setting his scarce belongings in a room opposite Aria's own, Link descended down the stairs. The mouthwatering aroma of stew and biscuits brought back so many pleasant memories: ones of better, simpler days to him. His sister stood, stirring the contents of a cooking pot, then lifted the ladle to taste its contents. As she started to pour the pot's contents into individual bowls, she seemed to pause.

"Is something the matter?"

Link's voice made her start and she brushed something off her face before turning to face him. "Sorry. It's just," she said, her voice going distant, "I still can't believe you're really here. It's like you're back from the dead. How did you even survive?"

"It's a long story, Malon." he answered her, "I can only amount it to sheer luck."

"And Ari…" Malon said, eyes falling before rising back to look at her brother, "So young without a mother. How did she-? How did you-?"

"We managed." He cut off, "That's all that matters."

Malon looked mildly taken aback. "I-I'm sorry." she apologized, more in surprise than anything at this sudden bout of coldness, "I didn't-"

"Few people do. And if I can ask?" He saw that he had her attention. "Don't bring up her mother again. EVER." He let himself breathe again, trying to steady his nerves and ease off the sharpness that his voice had taken. "It's still not easy for me...and she isn't ready to know."

Malon folded her arms over her chest, letting her suspicion and disapproval show. "And when will she be, exactly?" she asked, raising her brow at him.

A lengthy pause filled the air, then he looked away from her questioning gaze. "I don't know." he said, more in defeat than anything, "But I know it's not now. I don't know how she would take it. Her mother died when she was a baby, that's all she should know at the moment."

When he met his sister eye-to-eye again, she seemed to see the conflict in his gaze. It seemed she did not know any good or timely ways to break such news to her, for she sighed in defeat. "Fine. I won't talk about it. However," she said, catching his attention once more, "You must tell her, sooner or later. After all these years, she deserves the truth."

Link nodded slightly, almost reluctantly, then added, "Tell Leon what I told you. I'm going to fetch Aria if dinner's almost ready."

Not bothering to wait for Malon's compliance, he went back upstairs to the room that Aria took. Soon as he opened the door, his eyes fell on her, lying curled up on the bed and arms under a fluffy pillow. She looked like she didn't have a care in the world. But knowing his promise to Malon, he couldn't let her just sleep through a proper meal. He walked over, put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her until she stirred with a groggy moan.

"Is it morning already?" she asked, sleepily, as her eyes fluttered open.

"No." he answered, the faint hint of a laugh in his voice, "You dozed off. Now, come on down. Malon's got dinner cooking and we don't want her to wait for us."

Aria slowly rose from the bed and stretched. As soon as she was on her feet, Link could tell she just wanted to return to the bed. He could not blame her, but an opportunity to talk to their extended family was too good to turn down in his eyes. His daughter out of bed, Link descended the stairs with Aria following behind.

Dinner proved a very pleasant affair. Malon had not only cooked a hearty stew, she had also prepared biscuits, vegetables from her garden, and refreshing milk from prize-winning dairy cows, as she constantly boasted. Having known little else than game meat and pumpkins for so many years, Aria was not sure what to make of the meal, but the unique tastes and textures were more than enough to dispel her doubts in a matter of seconds.

Her aunt was such a delightful woman. When Aria tried referring to her as "Aunt Malon" out of basic formality, she was met with a surprise interjection.

"Oh, honey, you don't have to call me that." she said with an almost-comical huff, "I'm fun. Call me something else like…Auntie Mal."

"Okay then...Auntie Mal." The title "auntie" seemed odd to her, but it pleased her to see Malon smile and thank her for it.

Her son, Leon, also proved a delight. She was almost convinced that he could finish the entire table of food on his own. Malon had to slap his hand away with a soup ladle to make sure Aria and her father got any seconds. He always found some way to make anyone at the table laugh, even his own mother. Aria's laughter came frequently and genuinely whenever he finished a joke.

"So a fly went straight into this one cow's ear, see," the farmboy had said, "Next thing you know, it's in the milk bucket. Guess it was in one ear and out the udder." From the corner of her eye, Aria could have sworn she saw her father stifle a laugh into his milk glass.

Then storytime came around and they, fondly, talked about the old days. It was a secret hope of hers, but Aria had hoped she could learn about her mother, always keeping an ear open and starting with questions that she hoped would lead to an answer.

"So, do you have any interesting stories from your life in the woods?" Malon had asked.

Link, oddly enough, piped up with, "Well, there was the time when Aria got her first bow…"

Aria hoped she didn't look as pink as she felt. "Father, don't-" she started, but she was too late.

"Her little arms weren't quite used to a bowstring. She ended up firing it straight into the woods." he said, ignoring her proclamation, "I had to go in and find it. Fortunately, it was stuck in the stump of a tree I cut down a week before."

Aria felt she could have lit the whole room. In minutes, though, she was able to laugh at her own mistake.

As dinner progressed, Aria looked back and forth between her father and aunt. Perhaps it was her imagination, but something felt a little off to her. From their appearances to their demeanors, something was not quite adding up.

"Um, pardon me asking, but what was life like for you?" she asked, tentatively, "When father was still living here? What were your parents like?"

Malon shrugged. "About as ordinary a life as you'd expect a farm girl and her baby brother." she answered, "My mama died giving birth to me, so it was the two of us and my late papa."

Aria raised a brow. "If she died in childbirth, then...where'd father come from?"

Malon's eyes darted to Link and Aria could have sworn he gave her the subtlest nod. Malon could only shrug. "I don't know. It's an interesting story, how he came to become part of the family." Aria showed her that she was paying attention. "Papa took me on a delivery with him. It had rained the previous day, so on the trip back home, the carriage wheel got stuck. As he stepped off to dislodge it, I heard crying. Right there in the bushes was a baby boy, still in his basket.  
"I couldn't just leave him, so I picked him up to show my papa what I stumbled across. He was reluctant, but when he learned I'd found him all alone, he took him in and he lived with us until he could fend for himself."

Aria could only smile. She had only known her aunt for less than a day and, already, she found so much to love about her. One peek at her father saw he was giving her a look that nonverbally begged her not to continue. Malon either completely missed the look or, heavens forbid, noticed and proceeded anyway.

"After that, I became both his big sister and his mama in a sense." she said, "Whether it was teaching him to ride a horse or saving him from a flock of cuccos, I was always there for him."

Aria looked at her father, almost incredulously. "You? Afraid of cuccos?" she asked, using all her strength to suppress the urge to laugh.

"I was six, Aria." Link said, trying to keep his composure, but Aria saw him going pink in the cheeks even as he tried to mask it by sipping his glass.

"He speaks the truth, Ari dear." Malon said, idly picking at a potato with her fork, "My brother grew up fast...too fast, if I'm being honest. He was coming with us on deliveries when he was nine, and by fourteen, he'd left the ranch to go live in Castletown."

"Did he ever come back?" Aria asked.

Malon's eyes briefly flitted to Link, as though watching for a reaction. "For visits, yes." she answered, somewhat-distantly, "He'd come by to celebrate my birthday and make sure the ranch was doing alright. He came to my wedding, and I went to his. Last time I saw him before now was when he wanted to show me his little baby-girl."

"So, you knew mother?" Aria asked.

The sparks in her eyes must have shown, for Malon looked surprised and then disheartened to answer. "No. I'm sorry, dear. We met only once and didn't really talk much." She seemed to sense Aria's building disappointment, though, for she quickly followed up with, "But she seemed pleasant and kind, just as Link described in his letters." She looked at Aria again, a sad smile forming on her face. "You look so much like her-same eyes, same hair, same-"

Malon's eyes suddenly looked past Aria and to her father, then she stopped mid-sentence and began finishing up her plate. Not long after finishing her meal, Malon seemed eager to change the subject.

"What can I do to help?" she asked, "Is there anything I can do to help with whatever you are doing?"

Link piped up almost immediately. "A horse would help. We have far to travel and, I fear, not a lot of time."

Malon looked at him for a while, then directed a tone that Aria found hard to read. "After dinner. I might have just the one for both of you." This seemed to satisfy him, for he returned to his meal in silence. It did prompt a thought from Aria, though.

"Excuse me," she said, "But could I learn to ride? I've always wanted to, but there weren't a lot of horses where I used to live."

"Absolutely, dear." Malon answered, "We can show you the basics and your papa can show you how down the road. Won't you?" Malon had given her brother a brief glance. He nodded before returning to the last scraps of food on his plate.

They finished their food just minutes later and, after helping clean their dishes, the four of them went out to the range. The horses out on the range grazed on what fresh grass they could find in the pasture, while others cantered around the edges, as though wanting to show off to the newcomers.

"Ari, dear?" Aria turned at being addressed, "Yes, I'm going to borrow your papa for a moment. Just remembered there's someone else here who might want to see him. Leon will help you find a good enough horse, isn't that right?"

Leon nodded eagerly and Malon put a hand on her brother's arm, leading him out of the enclosure. It was curious. Who else could be at this ranch that would miss her father?

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. My first story here on AO3 and the first true, story-driven fanfic I've written in years. I've brainstormed this fic for over a year and am curious as to what people will think of it.


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